Forbidden
by ForeverSirius77
Summary: Forbidden fruit is sweetest.' The temptation is always strong when one discovers knowledge that they should not see. And not everyone denies the sweetest of all fruits … Some embrace it hungrily.


**_Disclaimer_**_: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. I'm just playing with her creations for the time being. However, anything you do recognise does belong to me._

**_Summary_**_: "Forbidden fruit is sweetest." The temptation is always strong when one discovers knowledge that they should not see. And not everyone denies the sweetest of all fruits … Some embrace it hungrily._

**_Author's__ Note_**_: This short one-shot is a combination of two drabbles that were previously written for two different things on MNFF. The first was written for an assignment in the "Mythology O.W.L class," while the main third part (actual fourth) was written for a weekly drabble, of which the topic was "Diligence." (The main second bit (actual third bit) is a piece that helps to join the two together.) Now, I present for your enjoyment,_ Forbidden.

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**Forbidden**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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_"Forbidden fruit is sweetest."_

* * *

He was walking through the long aisles of books that littered the Hogwarts library, not looking for anything in particular, when suddenly, a single book caught his eye. It was thick and bound in dark red leather, but there was no title on the book. But the young, thirteen-year-old student didn't need a title to tell him what the book was. He knew of this book – the only untitled piece in the library – and he knew that it belonged in the Restricted Section.

_The Restricted Section,_ he thought. For the past two years, he'd wanted to be free to explore the knowledge held within that part of the library, but the old librarian would never let anyone into the section. Madam Scroll haunted that part of the room like an evil spectre, and the only way for a student to get anything from it was for her herself to remove it.

_But this book hasn't been put back,_ the boy thought, and he was overcome with the intense urge to read it. The knowledge it contained was of the utmost forbidden kind – at least, that was what the rumours said about it. No one had ever actually read the untitled book, as far as he knew. Taking a quick glance around to be sure that there weren't any teachers present, he grabbed the book and stuffed it into his bag, leaving the library as he did so.

Not wanting to go back to his dormitory, however, he reached the nearest empty classroom and entered inside, shutting the door behind him. He walked to a far corner of the room and removed the book, opening to the first page. The contents of the first page alone were some of the darkest forms of magic ever known, and as the boy continued flipping through the pages, the magic just became darker and darker and, in some cases, the magic was down as just pure theory – things never before attempted even at a testing sort of stage.

The boy was so immersed in the book that he didn't hear the classroom's door open, and he didn't notice that another person had entered until a tall figure stood above him, covering the boy in his shadow. Looking up, the boy met the gaze of Albus Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir?" the boy asked.

"What are you doing alone in this classroom, Tom?"

"Reading."

"What are you reading?"

At that, the boy knew it would be pointless to lie, to try and hide the book, but he didn't give it over to Dumbledore, either. "I found it on a table in the library, sir," he said, and Dumbledore reached down to take the book. After Dumbledore looked at the book, he turned his gaze back to Tom.

"This book is meant for the Restricted Section, Tom," he said. "You should not have taken it."

"I'm sorry, sir," the boy answered, though Dumbledore saw the truth behind the boy's words. Yet, the boy was young, and no harm had come from him reading this book . . .

* * *

Tom Riddle left the classroom shortly after Dumbledore, and he followed the teacher, though careful to stay out of sight of the older man. He managed to catch up with him just in time to see Dumbledore set fire to the untitled book.

But the knowledge it contained had already been released.

* * *

Time passed from that day. Days turned into weeks, which stretched into months that it turn became years. Seasons altered from the warm weather of summer to the cool breezes of autumn; the coldness of winters drifted away into the brightness of springs.

The young boy grew during that time, and he was heralded as brilliant by his teachers and classmates. "That boy will be famous," they would utter in the halls. "He will go on and do great things," he would hear people say. "Everyone will know his name in only a few years' time, you mark my words."

Greatness, it seemed, was in the boy's destiny … and it was not something that he questioned. He knew it was the truth, and he knew he would prove their uttered words correct.

He understood the advanced magic placed upon him in his classes, he excelled in his academics. The boy went on to prove to his teachers that he was responsible, and gained awards and privileges for it.

No one thought to watch him.

No one thought he would show his greatness in a way that they had never expected. No one believed he would become the person that he did.

But the knowledge would never leave him, he knew. He had opened the book, had perused those old pages of magic both ancient, Dark, and unstudied. Years had passed since that day, but it didn't matter.

He had tasted of the forbidden fruit, and he only wanted more of its sweet flavour.

* * *

The candle's flame flickered as the night wore on, a nearly-full moon shining down on Hogwarts's grounds. All throughout the castle, wizards and witches were slumbering peacefully in their beds. Well, almost everyone was asleep. One tall, black haired young man remained in the library, books piled in front of him next to the flickering and slowly dying candle.

He had been searching for weeks at every moment he could, and still, he had not found anything about them, save one obscure reference that was not any help at all. Of course, he knew that the information in Hogwarts would be limited, but he had still hoped, perhaps fruitlessly, that he would at least have found _something._ As he slammed the book shut in anger, a tiny voice uttered in his mind.

_Perhaps the fact that you can't find it means you shouldn't do it. Perhaps it's for the best that the information is not known._

But, like always, the young man pushed the voice from his mind. It was a doubt he had had in the very beginning, but he refused to experience it now. Weeks of effort had been put into this, and the rewards would be far greater when he finally found the information he sought. There was nothing, nothing at all, that would make him give up now.

_Then where is the information going to come from?_ the voice questioned.

Tom Marvolo Riddle smirked as he thought up his answer. "Professor Slughorn," he muttered under his breath. And with that, he blew out the candle, plunging the library into complete darkness. He had an answer; his weeks of effort and searching would not go to waste, and he knew, without a doubt, that he would succeed in this – his greatest ambition . . . He would cheat death, with only a bit of work, a small amount of diligence.

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**_Author's__ Note_**_: Well, that's all of it. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and please, don't hesitate to let me know what you think. This is my first time writing a young Tom Riddle – I've only ever written adult Voldemort before – so I'd like your opinion on that front as well._

_--ForeverSirius77_


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